


Ascension of the Apprentice

by Heavisi



Category: Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, Explanation, Segments, chapters, markl's backstory, the novel and the movie have influences on this story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-12
Updated: 2017-01-12
Packaged: 2018-09-17 01:37:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9298373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavisi/pseuds/Heavisi
Summary: A fan-made backstory for Markl explaining exactly how he and Howl met and how Markl became his apprentice.





	

* * *

 

**PROLOGUE**

               In a world where magic and sorcery really do exist, it is quite a misfortune to be born without such wonderful capabilities. Of course, it is even more unfortunate to lack any sort of ordinary attributes as well, even a family, which many of the residents of Ingary do have- and it is ever more unfortunate indeed that a young boy of only ten does not have any such possession. A family is a very important and precious thing, after all.

               This young boy of only ten will be known as Markl from the moment he is left on Porthaven Orphanage’s doorstep as a baby. He will be raised to be curious, friendly, and grateful to those who help him throughout his life. This upbringing led him to become _so_ curious and optimistic about the world that when he turned 10, he left the orphanage, in search of something more. It is in this way that he managed to meet the most powerful wizard of all, by chance, on a dark and rainy night in fall.

 

* * *

 

               For a rainy evening, it was quite peaceful. Of course, Markl would have preferred it not to be raining at all, but he didn’t have any say in the matter if the weather was inclined to be gloomy. He was a long way away from his hometown of Porthaven. He didn’t travel with any destination in mind and he had winded up in Kingsbury. He had never seen such extravagance. The tall buildings and monuments amazed him, and earlier that day he had spent an hour just marveling at all the statues and attractions. Of course, he couldn’t buy anything (the prices were much too high for what was in his small coin purse) but he found great satisfaction in watching the many colorful people whisk by in their big hats and dresses. A few of them gave him sour looks, but he had become accustomed to that sort of thing growing up an orphan. He wasn’t sure why, but people tended to think of orphans as disgusting little creatures.  
               Originally, Markl had planned to head north from Kingsbury to see what lie over the border, but it had started to rain. Quickly taking shelter under a shop’s awning, the young boy watched the fat drops slap against the cobblestone. Despite being in a completely different environment, by himself to boot, he didn’t feel scared. What he did feel, however, was hungry. Being in such an expensive area really wasn’t good for conserving money, and he couldn’t find a food stall anywhere. Even if he could, he doubted its prices would be low enough for him to buy anything to eat, and his righteous conscience prohibited him to steal.

               He looked at his hands. Sleeping off the hunger was his best bet. He was a skinny boy, so he didn’t eat much, and therefore could stave off hunger by sheer willpower, if only for a day or so. He looked around at the shop stoop he had happened upon. “The Great Wizard Pendragon”, the words hanging above the door behind him read. Markl’s eyes flashed with curiosity for just a moment. A wizard? His memory seemed to recall that a wizard by the name of Jenkins sold safety spells for the fishermen’s boats in Porthaven, but his hours were odd and his identity a mystery. His little imagination whisked him off to a fantasy in which Markl himself was a great wizard. “Markl the Amazing”, perhaps. Or “Markl the Astonishing”. He pictured himself in a large robe, swishing his fingers about as various lights danced around him. How remarkable, he thought, that such a thing really existed. With those thoughts in his head, he gently set his head down against the cold pavement steps, curled up tight, and promptly fell asleep.

               Markl wasn’t sure how much time had passed when he was awoken by the creaking of a door. His heavy eyelids gradually became light enough to lift themselves from over his eyes, and Markl moved just slightly to peer at what was causing the noise.  
               A pair of crystal blue eyes peered at him from beyond the threshold of the door, and in the remnants of the dream he was just having, Markl thought that perhaps those eyes belonged to a beautiful cat. But slowly, his eyes became unclouded with sleepy haze, and he saw that the eyes, in fact, belonged to a person. Markl rubbed his eyes immediately, ready to remove himself from the stoop to prevent the person from calling the authorities (it had happened a few times in the past). He sat up with such a jolt that his head felt a bit light for a few moments, causing him to misplace his foot on the side of a stair in his haste to get up. He began to slip on the slick step, and his arms flailed in front of him to catch himself.

               Something grabbed the back of his shirt, preventing him from falling down the remaining steps. Markl panicked, thinking that the person who had opened the door would throw him, and he covered his head in case that were true, ready for the impact of the incoming stairs. But none came. Actually, the boy felt himself being carefully lowered back onto the top step, and he became confused. Markl slowly turned, peering over his left shoulder at first, then removing his hands from his head to get a better look at his savior. The hand let go of his shirt, and he turned completely, facing the person.

               He was the most beautiful creature Markl had ever witnessed. His eyes seemed like two clear pools of a lake that would never stop sparkling. His hair flowed in the gentle wind of the night, glistened like snow, and had the color of a sun rising at dawn. Markl stood on the step with his mouth slightly agape until his senses came to him, and he immediately felt his face grow red. Bowing at the waist, he apologized sincerely to the man. “I’m very sorry to have fallen asleep on your doorstep!” He shouted, his embarrassment raising the pitch of his voice by an octave.  
               All that could be heard was the slow pitter-patter of rain behind the young boy, but in his rush to apologize, he couldn’t tell if the rain was still pouring, or if the sounds he was hearing were just the remnants of it sliding themselves off of windows and awnings.

               Then, all of a sudden, a laugh. Crisp, deep, and clear, the joyous sound almost filled Markl’s heart to the brim with the hope he thought he had left behind in Porthaven. He tentatively raised his meek head, looking up at the source of the laughter shyly.  
               The man’s wide mouth was open, displaying a set of straight, white teeth as he laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, although he was young, and a slim hand rested on his equally slim waist as the other propped open the door. “My dear boy,” he chuckled, looking at Markl with amusement. His eyes scanned the young boy in front of him from top to bottom, as if he were looking for something that he knew was there, but couldn’t quite find it. “Are you going to come in, or not?”

               Markl blinked in surprise. He had plenty of reasons to be suspicious of this man, but for some reason, he did not feel afraid of him. Not in the least. In fact, the opposite was true: he felt that he could trust the man. His trembling frame on the doorstep, cold and small, took a slow and tiny step towards the warm threshold. “Yes, sir,” he stuttered out, partially due to nerves, partially due to lack of heat. He almost bit his tongue on the last word, and promptly clamped his mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth. This made the man laugh a bit more before he left the door open, walking up the stairs that were visible behind him. Markl followed.

               His small feet followed those in front of him, hoping that we wouldn’t trip. The door shut on its own, startling Markl, but he didn’t look back. The room in front of him was too captivating.  
               It was huge, that was definite, but so disheveled and chaotic in its appearance that it was a wonder how this wizard had managed to stay in business. Markl’s wide eyes took in the whole of it: dirty shelves of tableware to his left, the large table burdened with various trinkets, cloths, and containers in the center of the room, and the large four pane window to his right, clouded and musty with grime and dirt. The floors themselves could barely be seen under the thick layer of filth that had no doubt been accumulating for as long as this house had been there. It was so messy and unkempt that the man standing near the fire looked completely out of place, as if someone, by some way of magic, had transported him out of the place of royalty he surely resided and into this room.  
               But, in spite of the circumstances, Markl was charmed by the room. He didn’t mind the dirty appearance it had in the least, as he had lived in an orphanage with a similar cleaning regimen, and was simply grateful to be invited into a house that had a warm fire.

               “You’re the wizard Pendragon, right?” Markl spoke up suddenly, breaking the silence that had been brewing since he set foot into the house. He was surprised by his own courageousness, and immediately shut his mouth.  
               The man turned his gentle gaze towards him. “Would you like to know?” He said playfully, and after a moment of thought on the part of the man, he gestured for Markl to venture closer.  
               Markl crossed the length of wooden flooring between them like he was crossing a glass beam: slowly, one foot in front of the other, like he feared the ground would collapse beneath him. It certainly creaked that way. Soon, he was by the man’s side, peering into the fire.  
               The man glanced at Markl before continuing. “What is your name?”  
               Markl told him.  
               “That’s an odd name, isn’t it? Who gave it to you?”  
               “The matron of the orphanage I lived in gave it to me.”  
               The honesty made the man raise an eyebrow, but just slightly.

               Nothing more was said for the time being. Markl found that during the brief exchange of words, he had begun to stare at the man’s profile. He turned his attention back to the fire, dancing in front of him. It was a while before either of them spoke again, giving Markl sufficient time to warm his body from the trauma of sleeping outside in the fall air.  
               “Markl,” the man said, startling the young boy and causing him to snap his eyes to the face of the man. He smiled at this. “Do you know the rumors of a wizard named Howl?”  
               Markl nodded that he had, feeling that staying quiet would benefit him in some way.  
               “And what do you think of the wizard Howl?”  
               The young boy had never expected to be asked this question. “I think he must be a very lonely person, since so many people seem to be afraid of him.” He replied after a few minutes.

               This response was met with silence for a moment, and Markl feared that he may have said something inappropriate or wrong. But this was not the case.  
               “Do you?” The man said, and he began to laugh. The young boy did not feel scared, and instead, felt inclined to laugh with him. He didn’t, for he did not find what he had said very amusing, but watched the young man laugh instead. “Calcifer, this child is quite funny, don’t you think?” Markl was confused and a little disappointed, thinking that the man had forgotten his name already, but heard a rather large crackle from the fire and shifted his gaze to watch it come to life.

               “Our humor is very different,” a light-hearted, frog-like voice croaked from the heart of the fire, and as Markl watched it with wonderment, he saw a pair of eyes from within the bright flames. “How long is he going to drip all over my floors?” The fire added, and Markl gasped inaudibly, tearing his eyes away from the talking fire in front of him and down at himself. His clothes weren’t soaked, but they were definitely damp (at some point in the night, the rain must have fell sideways and gotten him wet), and he was gently forming a small dark splotch on the floor. He watched it spread, like a living creature, seeping into the old floor boards around his feet. He looked up again, into the eyes of the fire that was judging him so harshly. He had been so distracted by the whimsical mood of the encounter that he had completely forgotten himself.  
               “Get him a towel, or a change of clothes, or _something_ , Howl.” Calcifer seemed to lament that Markl should even be standing in front of him, but somehow, Markl felt that he was being treated incredibly kindly. He tilted his head up to Howl, as the fire had called him, and realization quietly set in. Despite knowing that Howl was apparently dangerous- he had heard the rumors, after all- he still wasn’t scared. He hadn’t been the whole time he had been here, chatting with him. He simply felt awed, to be in the presence of such a great and powerful wizard.

               “I’m surprised, Calcifer! And that is a difficult feat to accomplish.” Howl said, smiling pleasantly and walking over to a small alcove under the stairs and bending to retrieve something. “Usually, you throw guests out without a second thought.” He added, finally returning with a towel so fluffy that Markl wondered if it was perhaps an animal in disguise. The boy accepted it graciously, bowing his head as he wrapped it around himself like a cape. “I would be honored, Markl. Calcifer doesn’t like too many people.” Howl glanced at the fire. “Just like a cat.”  
               “I just don’t want him to soak my floors any more than he already has,” Calcifer snapped, and suddenly, the face was gone, as if the fire had buried it in the logs beneath him. This action made Howl laugh.

               “Markl,” Howl said, getting the young boy’s attention. “You must be freezing. How about a change of clothes?” He suggested, moving aside and showing him to the stairs leading to the second floor. Markl blinked and nodded, shuffling awkwardly towards the foot of the stairs with the towel still wrapped around him. “The third floor.” Howl instructed quietly as he walked up the stairs behind him, stepping onto the landing. There a hallway on the right of the landing, but all that was in it was a simple door to the left. Otherwise, it was very cramped. When the pair reached the landing of the second flight of stairs, Howl gestured to Markl’s left. “See if you can find some clothes in there, Markl.”

               A dusty wooden door with a slatted handle welcomed the boy inside. The room beyond was small and smelled of dust, as if the door hadn’t been opened in years. On the small blue bed against the window at the back of the room, there were boxes stacked. Markl raised his eyebrows into his red hair out of curiosity. “Those boxes have clothes from my childhood in them,” Howl said suddenly, and Markl realized that he had forgotten Howl was there to begin with, he was so captivated by the little room. “They will surely fit you.” He concluded, and slowly shut the door to allow Markl some privacy.  
               The young boy was left to his thoughts in the silent room, the rain pattering against the small window outside. He let the fluffy towel roll off of his shoulders, but was able to quickly catch it before it touched the dusty floor. Walking over to the bed, he noticed that the boxes were the only things _not_ covered in dust, aside from the bed, and he found it odd that was the case. If the boxes were from Howl’s childhood, should they not be dustier than anything surrounding them?

               Markl folded the towel and set it on the bed beside the boxes. He reached across the duvet on the bed for the smallest box: it wasn’t shut properly, and an opening in the top of the box served as a peep hole for the contents inside. The boy opened the box the rest of the way and peered inside.  
               A green vest that reminded him of a leprechaun rested inside, along with a bright orange bow. Markl blinked, having only seen this type of fashion in Kingsbury. He wondered if Howl had lived his entire life in Kingsbury, having grown up in this sort of fashion.  
               Nevertheless, Markl took the clothing out of the box, and discovered that beneath the vest were matching green shorts and a white button-up shirt. He thought that he should try these clothes on before opening any more boxes. They looked as if they fit, and he didn’t hate their design. But in removing the fabrics from their cardboard home, he knocked the box from the bed, and the contents spilled onto the floor. Markl stepped back, watching the colorful fabrics spill forth from the box. His eye caught a particular shade of red amongst the mess, and upon separating it from the pile, he discovered that it was a pair of pants. Deciding that it was too cold to wear just the shorts, Markl added the pants to the ensemble he had draped over his arm, and began to put the other clothes back into the box as neatly as his little hands could.

               In front of the mirror, Markl barely recognized himself. He looked almost happy in such colorful clothing. But he rather missed his coin purse, which lay dejected on the bed beside the clothes he had discarded. He picked it up and fastened it to a belt from the opened box, buckling it around his waist.  
               At that moment, a knock came at the door. “Markl? Could I come in?”  
               Markl jumped, turning towards the door. “Yes!” He said simply, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in the clothing (which was another thing Markl thought odd: they had supposedly been in the boxes so long, yet were freshly ironed).

               The excited face of Howl appeared before Markl, eyes bright and shining. He rested a hand against the doorknob. “Wow! You look almost just like me when I was your age.” Howl said, putting the other hand to his chin with a playful smile. “That is an interesting combination of tastes.”  
               Markl suddenly felt his face grow hot, so he bowed his head in the hopes Howl wouldn’t notice. “Thank you very much for the clean clothes,” he said humbly, closing his eyes. “I like them.”  
               “Really? That’s good to hear! You can keep them, then.” Howl said, turning his focus from Markl to the room. “Do you feel the same way about the room?” The young boy looked up with big eyes, staring not at the room, but at Howl. He nodded, slowly at first, then quickly. Howl laughed. “That so! You can keep that, too, then! Nobody is using it, after all.”

               Markl felt a hotness gather behind his eyes, but he blinked them away as Howl remained silent, waiting for the boy to collect himself and his thoughts. After a few moments, he managed to do so. “Thank you very much.” Markl said, voice still wavering with the threat of tears.  
               Howl looked at the boy before him with a careful gaze, as if he were watching a baby deer walk for the first time. “You are very welcome.” He responded kindly. “But I suppose you’re tired. I know you’ve already taken a nap on my stoop,” Markl blushed, “but there is a bed that hasn’t been used in a while, and is very lonely.” Howl concluded with a gesture. “Please help yourself to whatever is in the cupboards when dawn breaks. I will be out in the morning.” Markl nodded. Howl reached a hand up to flick off the light, and with this, Howl closed the door once more, leaving Markl alone in his room.  
               Small dust particles floated throughout the room, and Markl noticed that the moon was full, shining a square of pale light on the bed and boxes. He quietly walked over to the bed and began setting boxes on the floor in front of it. He wasn’t sure what to do with the towel, so he draped it carefully on a chair in the room to dry. And finally, he crawled into the bed that had been graciously offered to him.

               It was comfortable beyond belief. Markl had gotten used to being shifted around, sleeping in beds that did not belong to him for very long, and sleeping on mats, even, but he discovered that perhaps getting used to sleeping on a mattress as soft as this would be harder than that after spending years going without. It was so difficult adjusting, in fact, that Markl climbed down from the bed and spread out the towel he had put aside earlier, deciding to sleep on that, instead.  
               He fluttered his eyes closed, letting the moonlight filter in from the pane of glass above him. Instead of the sound of the water and crickets, which he had been used to in Porthaven, Markl heard the sound of distant carriages, clattering against cobblestone, aircrafts whirring ahead, their little spinners whistling against the wind, and a few stray cats meow into the night, the full moon filling their hearts with longing. These sounds culminated to form the perfect lullaby, and albeit unfamiliar, Markl found it soothing somehow. As if the city were, altogether, breathing in and out in the cold night, keeping warm.

 

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> The events in this piece of fiction are influenced mainly by the film "Howl's Moving Castle", but there are a few particular instances where the novel by the same name may be referenced. Let it be known that I have never read the novel, simply seen the movie more times than can be counted


End file.
